


The Bride and Groom.

by tgfoy



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 12:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16833028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tgfoy/pseuds/tgfoy
Summary: A Downton Abbey missing moment story."The Bride and Groom." Tom repeated, and everyone turned in surprise. He and Sybbie had arrived just in time to toast the newly weds, unannounced to the family at the end of their journey from Boston USA, but how had they got there. This is a story about that journey, the people they met on the way and a return to the home and family they had yearned for.





	The Bride and Groom.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on situations and characters created by Julian Fellowes, co-produced by Carnival Films and Masterpiece. I make nothing from this story and make no claims of any kind on the property of any rights holders, I was simply inspired by what they made to write the story presented below, my only reward being the response of any who may read it and as a result perhaps favourite this work or even write a review.

The Bride and Groom.  
By Tgfoy.

I stood at the gate with Sybbie in my arm looking up at the house a wide grin on both our faces. It was a wonderful summers day to arrive, the cloudless blue sky providing a welcoming backdrop to the great house. I wondered if we had been spotted from any of the windows, perhaps George had been looking out from the nursery window, Robert or Cora from the library maybe. Mary may have glanced from her room or Edith from hers, maybe even Mr. Bates as he worked in the dressing room, maybe even Carson as he checked things were just so after the maids or footmen had done their tasks. If they had, there was no sign of it, I wondered if the family were at home. My stomach clenched, it was all right planning to surprise them, but what if they had gone away? It would be ironic if they had gone to visit Mrs Levinson in America which I had left almost a week ago, or were in London where I had just travelled from today. It was unlikely they would have gone to the States though and if they were in London then some of the servants would be here anyway, but I could always go to Crawley house or the Dower house if necessary.

The taxi driver was giving us an odd look. I had asked him to stop at the gate, we had got out of the car, my daughter leaping into my arms excitedly. “We are here Daddy.” She yelled excitedly into my ear.

“Yes my darling, we are.” I answered after flinching, which only increased the puzzled look of disenchantment on the drivers face.

I didn't recognise him as a local and he had moaned about not being a fare going towards Ripon, bluntly his bad tempered attitude annoyed me, but he had been the only one in the station yard. Despite our months away from here, that had struck me as unusual even for the small station that served the village and surrounding area, including the house we were now looking at, usually there would be at least three to meet each train that arrived there, as well as a couple of farm wagons, but there had only been this one vehicle today. He had clearly been surprised to hear an Irish accent in the first place as the porter loaded our luggage into the boot, his eyebrows raised further when I told him our destination, clearly he did not know the family members. He hardly spoke on the way from the station, only to moan that he would have preferred to have a fare going towards Ripon than this short hop in the opposite direction, but was watching me suspiciously as I looked up at the house.

It was a relief to be back at the home I had left on the third day of this year, full of hope for a new life, taking Sybbie with me. Now we were back a few months later, to the family we loved and had missed terribly after not an unsuccessful time in Boston. Although we were back, I did not regret the journey we had undertaken, it had taught me much, scared me in some ways, but above all, it had made me realise where I actually belonged. It may have taken travelling half way round the world for me to understand, but this was where we belonged, learning that, had made taking the risk to go there, a valuable thing to do, if nothing else.

It had not taken long after we had arrived in Boston while 1925 was still in its infancy, to realise it had been a mistake to come. The City was just too different, too big and too crowded for us, making us feel claustrophobic. Certainly it was good to see my cousin, as well as to work with him and meet his family. We both enjoyed meeting his wife and she us, the people were mostly friendly enough, of that there was no doubt, there were so many of them though. I couldn't get my stride in the streets, I had thought I was used to walking in cities, I had often been to York, frequently visited London, but here it was very different. It was so difficult to gain and maintain a pace we were both used to, we both ended up taking big steps and little ones, just to get about on the crowded pavements. At first, I had put it all down to the change, home sickness, missing people who had become family and simply needing to get used things here. After all, to move from the wide open spaces, woodland and lakes of the estate to any City was an incredible contrast in lifestyle for us, even if we hadn't moved to a different continent across the world as well.   
Boston was, without doubt, an amazing place full of tall buildings busy streets, cars and wagons. There were Museums, Theatres and Cinemas, play areas and parks, cafes, restaurants and incredible shops, but as the weeks went by it was becoming clearer it may not be the place for us.

My cousin had been the one who had wanted me to go into partnership with him in the City, it had been he who had arranged everything necessary for us to live there. He who had arranged the correct papers for me to be able to work there and for Sybbie to be cared for while we were at his dealership where we sold cars and were building a new side to his business, farm machinery. Boston may be a large City, but it was surrounded by agriculture, so expanding to supply the needs of the farmers was a sensible move for the business. He believed my experience, both with cars and as agent for my father in laws estate, would be useful and it was, to some extent, but it was still a world away from what I had done and enjoyed at Downton. Despite all that, despite the differences and difficulties, I was initially determined to make our new life work, I tried all I could to settle, to make Boston our home, but it wasn't.

Above the showrooms there was a sizeable flat, which we shared with my cousin and his family. It was not cramped and we could lead separate lives if we wished, but we didn't particularly. He and his wife were held in high regard in the Irish Catholic community of the City, so we were welcomed warmly and in some ways it was just like being back in Ireland. There were even a couple of people I remembered from growing up and one family who had lived near Sybil and I after we had married. My Cousin and his wife had no children, but they doted on Sybbie, as did many in our community some of whom had children and she soon had a small group of friends near her own age. Yet she still sorely missed George, Marigold and especially Donk as well as the rest of the family. She surprised me one day by saying she desperately wanted to see Grand mama Violet, who although I got on with quite well before we had left, had not had much to do with Sybbie so far as I knew. 

I should really have known better, the Dowager was nothing if she was not unpredictable. The day before we had left, she had given us contact details for someone she knew, or rather was related to someone she knew, who was in New York and would ensure we could return to England if things did not work out for us. In that one action she showed that she would miss us, without revealing any sentimentality at all, thereby retaining her mask, despite the tear in her eye that she thought I had not noticed as she held Sybbie close when we said goodbye.

I was busy in the showroom of course, arranging the new stock and dealing with customers. In fact, I soon made back my investment sum in the company, far quicker than I had anticipated initially. Yet the work was not as fulfilling as I had hoped, I missed the freedom of being agent on the estate, the variety of the work there. I missed the manners with which we all treated each other, in Boston most who came to purchase our vehicles had the brashness of having become wealthy quickly and a rudeness towards others they would not tolerate directed at themselves. They treated Capitalism as a religion, with themselves at the top regardless of their actual position. I had literally mixed with all levels of British society, except Royalty perhaps, only rarely had I encountered actual rudeness from any of them. Here it was simply accepted as part of life, a part beyond my comprehension, but that was not the worst. 

America was supposed to be the land of opportunity, a place where anyone could start with nothing and become something. That was partly true, but not the whole story. I thought I had seen prejudice and injustice in life in England and it was there, but not to the extent it was here. Change might be slow in Britain, but here it was at a standstill. Violence against the downtrodden went unpunished, not even investigated in many cases. There was in reality too few opportunities for many sections of society which, when you scratched the surface, was fractured and fragmented, each looking down on the other. I knew there was some prejudice in the States, though not for it to be as bad as it was and it disturbed me greatly. I did not want Sybbie growing up believing it was not just acceptable, but normal to treat others like that, regardless of heir colour or circumstances.

I wrote letters to Mary and the others back at Downton, though most regularly to Mary, knowing that they would share the news I sent. My last was to Mary about a week before I made the decision to leave, hinting at how unsettled I felt, I could imagine her reading it to Edith and her father at breakfast, then later to her mother and perhaps to the Dowager and Mrs Crawly. It had been whilst I wrote it, that I had realised where I truly belonged and that I should return there. A week after that realisation, seven days in which I spent much time thinking about the decision, considering every possibility that I could come up with, I spoke with Sybbie, who had seemed to be becoming less and less happy to be in Boston as well. Without any hesitation she made it very clear she wanted to go back to Downton too. The same day I talked with my cousin, I explained how we felt, even offered to give him my share of the company, I had made my money back after all, it was an offer he refused. He did, however, reluctantly accept that Sybbie and I were not happy there, so would be leaving, returning to Yorkshire a little over three months after we had left the county. He knew it was not to do with him, or the work, in fact I knew I would miss the job as well as him greatly. We had got almost everything in place for his expansion to be complete and had worked well together, but he understood our reasons. 

We were lucky to have a way to get back quickly, most who came over didn't have that option and if it didn't work for them would have been stuck until they could afford to return, if they ever could. I rang the contact the Dowager Countess had given me, he told us that a ship was leaving New York to cross the Atlantic a few days later, he booked passage on it for us immediately and according to the instructions he had been sent when she had prepared for this eventuality. We were to meet him at his office two hours before departure, where he would finalise the paperwork, then drive us to the dockside and ensure we got aboard safely.

We said goodbye to everyone at the station in Boston, where most of those we had got to know, had come to see us off. I shook my cousin's hand, then we embraced as I thanked him and he thanked me, I hugged his wife and Sybbie followed my example. My daughter had been so happy when I told her we were definitely returning home, if I hadn't already known, that in itself confirmed that this was the right decision. We boarded the train and waved to them all from the window, as it set off to the big apple. We spent much of the trip watching through the window at the different things we passed, returning by the same route we had arrived by.

We spent our last nights in America in a flat owned by Harold Levinson, Cora's brother, who had been happy to let us stay there when we contacted him. I had got on with Harold when he had visited the family in London for Rose's season, he had not had chance to visit us in Boston, but had been happy to let us use his well appointed apartment in New York. He was happy to be able to join us there and had been glad to show us round as much of the City as he could the day after we had arrived. We were both happy to renew our acquaintance that we had formed in London and cemented the friendship over that one day and the two nights we spent with him. Sybbie really liked him and he spoilt her a little, he believed his mother would be stunned to see how well he had got on with his Great Niece, it seemed he was not known for getting along with Children. They had, had great fun with each other, Sybbie had loved him from the start, even before he bought her candy and treats. As he had said, he would seldom have the chance to spoil her, unless we visited him in America, or in the unlikely event he came to visit us in Britain again, he did not like travelling if he could help it. 

We had a photograph taken of the three of us together, Sybbie on Uncle Harold's knee, at a studio he knew, he would keep one copy and take another to his mother, who had insisted she wanted a picture of the first of her Great Grand children to reach America, taken whilst they were still here. She had visited us in Boston, where she had of course caused a stir, but was unable to join us in New York, which both Harold and I both regretted and were thankful for. We both knew she would have taken over, she was quite a force of nature and had left quite a wake behind her in Boston. Harold and I spent that second evening talking and laughing together in the flat's sitting room, after Sybbie was in bed, spending it as two old friends might.

Harold had his driver take us to the White Star office with our luggage the next day, but only after a tearful Sybbie had said goodbye to Uncle Harold, he had comforted her, assuring her he would think of her often and would see her every day in his copy of the picture. I then had to assure her I had our copy safe and sound in one of the trunks and bags which made up our luggage. I told her we could certainly take it out once we were on the ship and settled in our rooms. We arrived at the office and the driver helped us in with the luggage while we met with the agent, which was when, to my surprise, I discovered the extent of the generosity of Lady Violet. She might be cantankerous, trust in the old ways and mistrust the new, but once again she had surprised me, as she did once before when she had sent Sybil the money so that we could attend Matthew and Mary's wedding. This time though, she had not just given us the contact, given method for the payment of passage and given him instruction on our treatment, but she had ensured he would have access to enough funds for us to sail in a first class suite with adequate help to ensure we could thoroughly enjoy the voyage. Lady Violet, had certainly wanted to ensure we travelled in comfort, we would certainly be reacquaint would need to thank her as soon as I could after we got back, but only when I could see her without anyone else present, she would not appreciate a public display of gratitude however large or small, of that much I was sure.

Once the paperwork was complete, the agent had taken us to the purpose built dockside where the ship that would take us home was waiting. The dock area was a hive of activity, passengers of all classes jostled amongst each other to board the ship, some carrying luggage while others instructed servants to supervise the loading of theirs or instructed the dock porters. Members of the crew were present near the gangways to assist and guide passengers to where they should be, depending on what class they were travelling, as well as to ensure only those with boarding passes got onto the vessel. By far the largest line of people was made up of those who would be travelling steerage, the cheapest of the tickets, though from what I could see there would be far fewer aboard this ship than there had been on the one we had arrived by.

Other dock workers and crew were loading the ship with all the provisions needed for the crossing, while further down the dock we could see the coal being loaded to fuel our journey. The great black hull of the liner loomed high above us, topped with the white superstructure and yellow funnels completing the livery of the company that owned it. Our carriage across the Atlantic was the newly repaired RMS Majestic, the largest ship the White Star line had, it had only come back into service during April and had made perhaps only two or three crossings since so was in a magnificent condition, the pride of the company once more. It was, of course purely coincidence that we would be travelling home on her, she was awe inspiring in sheer size from the dockside, a great slab of ship, towering over us, strangely dominating yet reassuringly solid looking at the same time.

This was the second time I had been on this dock, it was the one where we had arrived in America and like Southampton it struck me as a very utilitarian place to start a voyage. By its very nature there was little comfort, that said it was a place of transition, a place people and goods passed through, not a place where anyone spent much time by choice so it hardly needed even the same facilities that could be found on a railway station. 

The ship rose above the dock and bustling activity on it, as the agent drove us slowly along the pier leaving behind the other cars bringing passengers at the gates. Only company and supply vehicles were allowed through them, the cars bringing other passengers were directed into one of the buildings for their papers to be checked before the passengers were allowed onto the pier. Our fellow passengers and the dock workers parting to allow our lone car, the only non commercial vehicle on the pier, passage through them right to the landward end of one of the gangways. The moment the car stopped, two of the crew, who had been waiting at the bottom of the gangway to the first class decks, walked across, one opened the agents door, while the other opened the one next to me. Typically the car had a bench seat in the front, as so many American cars did, so I turned and lifted an excited Sybbie out, carrying her so that she would not get lost on the chaos of the dock. The agent spoke with the crewman who had opened his door and handed our papers over to him. He appeared to be the crew member in charge at this Gangway, he directed another to fetch a trolley from a row of them next to the warehouse like building where other passengers were waiting. This crewman then proceeded to unload our luggage from the boot onto it, the agent turned to us as we walked round the car.

“Well Mr. Branson, this is where our paths part. Our head Bursar, Mr. Hudson here, will look after you as you board.” He introduced the man who held our papers. “He will see you both to your rooms and introduce you to your maid and the head deck porter who will help you during your voyage. It has been a pleasure meeting you especially Miss. Sybbie, I think you have managed to wow all the ladies back at the office you know. I was also glad to be making these arrangements for you, please give Lady Grantham my regards when you see her. I wish you both a safe journey back to Yorkshire and all the best for the future, enjoy your voyage.”

We shook hands as I thanked him for all his help, then following Mr. Hudson up the gangway, we boarded the ship. I carried Sybbie along the carpet that was laid up the gentle slope of the covered gangway, that was for First Class passengers and passed through the doorway in the hull into a magnificent arrivals room. Mr. Hudson took care of the boarding procedure for us swiftly and efficiently. I signed the ships register for both of us, then he led us into a corridor, the man with the trolley with our luggage on following closely as we traversed the passages to our cabin suite. Mr Hudson left our papers on the table in our lounge, pointed out the plan of the ship, then noted that the maid had yet to arrive. He assured us she would be with us shortly to help unpack our belongings, then after overseeing the unloading of our luggage, left us to settle in. My first task, under the direction of Sybbie was to retrieve the photograph that had been taken the day before to be placed in her room, which I did, along with my picture of Sybil which I placed on the bedside cabinet next to my own bed. A knock on the door announced the arrival of our maid and the start of Sybbie getting to know her as she worked

We officially left American soil at midday that May Monday, the ship slipping its moorings and the tugs pulled it back away from the pier, a process we watched from the deck as was traditional. Once the ship was out of the dock and free of the tugs, we took part in the obligatory life boat drill along with all passengers and crew. Once that was over, Sybbie and I stood on the deck close to the stern, along with a few other passengers who had chosen not to return to their cabins, beneath the ensign which was fully out stretched, watching New York and the Statue of Liberty on its island, shrink behind us, until we could not see either any more, she turned to me happily. “We really are going home Daddy.” She grinned.

“Yes darling we certainly are.” I replied just as happy as she.

We turned, now facing the direction we were travelling, she took my hand and we walked along the deck towards the front of the ship, back to our suite. “I hope George remembers me.” She said concerned.

“I am sure he will Sybbie, very well I would expect.” I reassured her.

“And Donk?” She asked.

“Especially Donk!” I smiled.

“What about Aunt Mary, Aunt Edith, Aunt Isobel, Grand mama and Grand mama Violet?”

“I am sure they will all remember you and be happy to see you when we get back.”

“How long Daddy?” She asked.

“No longer than a week darling, a week and we shall be back where we belong, if the crossing is good then less than that.” I replied as we reached the door to the deck our rooms were on.

Our rooms were more than adequate for our needs, luxurious even, a taste of what waited us back at home, well furnished and decorated. Of course, we had a bedroom each, a bathroom, a small dining room and a lounge. It was not at the hull side of the ship so we had no portholes or sea view, though we could get that up on deck if we wished. The maid who was assigned to the suite had unpacked our luggage before departure and we of course could call on the stewards if needed, but the maid, Emily, was to look after us as our personal staff. She had a room and bathroom which she shared with the maid of the next suite along this corridor, the entrance to there room from our side was off the dining room.

That night we ate in the ships dining room, rather than our own. As was customary on the first night of a voyage, we had not changed for dinner, but nor had anyone else again as was traditional. Sybbie was the only child in first class, but she sat at the table like a lady and enjoyed the attention she got from the others at our table. She was of course a hit with the other passenger's, she was at that age when everyone thinks children are sweet and they would coo over them of course. Though naturally, as her father, I agree with them in her case. A few of them had heard of us and knew I was Lady Sybil's widower, even though I had not met them before. Such was the nature of British high society, word spread about any of the families news and was talked about, many were related to each other even if only distantly. All of them who sat with us were sympathetic of our loss and friendly to us, none looked down on us in any way. I took Sybbie to bed after the meal, she was almost falling asleep anyway and settled her to rest in her room, then went back into our lounge, where I sat alone with a brandy in my hand, studying the plan of the ship trying to memorise it so I would know where everything was for Sybbie the next day, eventually I retired to my own room for the night.

I woke early the next morning, about an hour before I had asked Emily to bring breakfast in for us. I rose, washed and dressed. Then I rang for the steward and ordered a pot of tea, with extra milk in case Sybbie had also woken and wanted a drink. I sat at the table in the lounge to wait, the steward knocked on the door a few minutes later, I let him in.

“Good morning sir, where would you like your tea?” He asked.

“Just put it on the table for me please.” I asked.

He did so then turned to me. “Shall I ask Emily to come through Sir?”

“No, let her finish her breakfast, I woke up earlier than expected, I don't expect her to rush about simply because I couldn't sleep.”

“Very well Sir.” He said politely, then left.

A few minutes later Sybbie came through, still in her night wear. “Morning Daddy.” She yawned, walked over, climbed onto my knee, kissed me on the cheek then moved to another chair.

“Morning Darling, would you like some Milk before breakfast?” She nodded her response.

The steward had brought a glass on the tray, so I poured some Milk into it, she took a drink and we sat planning our day of exploring the ship. I got Sybbie dressed before Emily arrived with our breakfast, which we took in the small dining room. While we ate there were a number of knocks at the door, which Emily answered. Each time a steward handed a card to her, which she passed to me, every one was an invitation to us both to join the sender at some point during the voyage. I knew we would need to accept them, to not do so would be to snub the people who sent it, but I was under little illusion that it was Sybbie that was the main target of the invitations not I, such was the consequence of being father to such a little girl. Most were from older ladies, who my daughter had won the hearts of already the night before. We would have the chance to explore this morning, but we would be occupied for most of the rest of the voyage it seemed.

Eventually we ventured out onto the deck, we were mid ocean of course so there was little to look at from the ship, but it was a glorious day and we didn't walk far before we met some of the passengers we had got to know during the meal that first evening aboard. They were sat out on deck, reading or simply watching the world go by and called us over to chat as well as perhaps hand Sybbie a treat, which she accepted graciously, further endearing her to the Lady's, Marchioness's and the two elderly Duchesses we had already received invitations from, alike. 

We lunched with the two Duchesses that day, fulfilling the invitation they had issued. It was actually quite interesting talking to them and they soon became favourites of Sybbie as well. They of course knew the Crawley's and our story although it had been some years since they had travelled to Yorkshire, something they both said they would need to rectify soon. They had been in America visiting family and had been strong friends of each other for many years, becoming related by marriage when the eldest son of one of them, had married the others daughter. Both now widowed, they spent as much time together as they could and travelled several times a year, usually around Europe, but once a year to visit the cousin in New York. They were returning to England in time for the Christening of their first Great grandson who was a descendant of them both. They both had Great grand children from the lines of their younger children, all of whom had made good marriages as had most of their older grandchildren, though they did hint that they both had at least one eligible grand daughter available who would make an excellent wife for me and step mother for Sybbie. Both agreed they would have to arrange a meeting, very girlish grins on their faces while they planned. I was used to the aristocracy trying to pair the next generation off, so made polite noises of vague, embarrassed interest in meeting the young ladies, as was expected. I knew they were up to mischief, as would the young ladies in question, I wasn't averse to meeting them, but doubted they would live up to Sybil. At worst, we would play the game as required, never see each other again, so it was not a worry.

After we had finished Lunch, we spent much of the afternoon playing deck games, with another couple who had sent a card that morning. We were joined by some of the others who had also sent them, but decided to take the opportunity to play the games with us as fulfilment of the invite. They had spoken with each other and realised that so many of them had issued an invitation, that the voyage would need to be at least twice as long as it was if we were to have a chance of fulfilling each one individually. As a result they had decided that it was better that they allowed us to fulfil at least some of them en block, rather than force us to choose which of them to disappoint, even if unintentionally. They were all quite happy to have spent an hour or so with us playing the games with us, before I took a tired out Sybbie to our rooms for a nap under the watchful gaze of Emily, while I enjoyed the company of some of the passengers in the reading room.

“Good grief, it's Tom, Tom Branson isn't it.” A voice said as I stood to leave after half an hour relaxing, reading a magazine.

I turned to see a vaguely familiar face. “Yes, it's me.” I responded.

“I thought it was you when I came in, but wasn't positive until you stood up. I'm not surprised you barely remember me Tom.” The man grinned. “After all, last time I saw you, I made rather a fool of myself with Lady Rose in that Jazz club."

The Penny dropped. “John, I mean Sir John Bullock, that seems a long time ago.” I shook the man's hand warmly.

“Please Tom, just call me John. What on earth are you doing here, how is everyone? I heard Rose had married and moved to America have you just been to see her?” He asked as we walked out of the room so we would not disturb others in it any more than we had already.

I chuckled and replied to the man who had got so drunk, whilst trying to impress Lady Rose, that he had needed to hurriedly abandon her in the middle of the dance floor in that club. I explained my story to him, which resulted in him inviting us to join him the next day for lunch.

Sybbie and I dined as guests at the Duchesses table that evening in the large saloon dining room, together with a number of others who had sent invitations to us. The two doughty old ladies had realised our dilemma that afternoon so had decided that they would organise everyone so we could keep them all happy, so had spent the afternoon canvassing the other first class passengers, creating a time table depending on the nature of the invitation. It had been kind of them to organise everyone and I was grateful to them, although they were pleased to have Sybbie and I sat with them, which they saw as reward enough, but I appreciated them taking us under their wing.

That night as I settled my very tired daughter she smiled at me. “One day sooner until I see George and Marigold.” She whispered, just before she fell happily to sleep.

“Yes my Darling.” I whispered in reply, gently kissing her forehead.

The ship was not at its capacity for this crossing, not even in second class or steerage, they were only about half full, which was a larger proportion of the passengers than those of us in first. Despite that, it meant we were a close nit community, in first class, happily socialising with each other and making new friendships. So not finding Sir John until the second day on board was surprising, I had thought we had seen all the first class passengers at that first night Dinner, but he had not attended, preferring to spend the first night alone in his cabin. It was good to see a familiar face aboard, amongst the new we were meeting. We had lunch, as arranged, the next day, the third on board and talked of friends and the family I was returning to. He tried to convince me to send a telegram via the ships radio to let someone back home know we were on the way, but I persuaded him not to do so, explaining that I wanted to surprise them with our return. I had even asked the White Star agent not to let the Dowager Countess know that he had put the arrangements, that she had made, into action. He understood my reasons, even wished he could be there to see their faces and agreed to keep it quiet. He did warn that it might not go as I planned, but acknowledged that I knew the Crawley family better than he. The three of us ate in jovial spirits, which did not match the mid North Atlantic weather outside, where the clouds were gathering.

The first rain hit the ship in the mid afternoon, as we sailed out of the sun beneath the darkened clouds. It was not a storm in the classic sense, the ship was not tossed about on enormous waves, although the increased swell was enough to rock the boat sufficiently to disturb Sybbie. Even so she was not put off the excitement that spread through the passengers when another ship was spotted on the horizon, heading towards us. It was the Olympic, the first and only surviving sister to the Titanic. It was an incredible, yet emotional sight as the huge vessel passed. Almost all the passengers had gathered to watch. Her black hull and white superstructure mirroring the livery of the Majestic although the older ship had four yellow funnels, one more than our vessel. It was exciting to watch her pass us, half a mile to our starboard side, both ships rendering the passing honours of sounding their horns and duty bridge crew standing at attention on both vessels. It was, in a way, our first direct contact with home, it had left Southampton only a couple of days ago heading for the berth that we had left. There could be no doubt, it was a poignant sight for all of us who remembered the tragedy, seeing that craft ploughing through these, the very same waters where Titanic had sunk. She had been the second of three ships built to the same plans in Belfast, they were intended as the pride of the White Star company, but the sinking of Titanic, then the loss of Britannic, the last built of the trio, in the war had decimated that idea. The Olympic had been the first of them and now was the only one left, it had survived war service to re enter the trans Atlantic voyages. It was natural to think that seeing Olympic pass, must have been what seeing the tragic Titanic sailing was like, as well.

Once the ship had passed, Sybbie, unaware of the thoughts of many, was keen to get back inside, proclaiming she was hungry, we decided we would take tea. The weather began to get worse and she began to get upset with the motion of the ship, during afternoon tea in the reading room with the Duchesses and others. They were all concerned for her and understood that we needed to return to our suite, where she felt most secure looking at the pictures we had of family and I tried to comfort her. 

It wasn't long before we had the first visitors, calling round to check on her, it was of course the Duchesses, who sat with her as she told them about who was in the pictures, at their encouragement. News spread quickly that she was upset about the increased swell and we soon had a lounge full of people, helping to keep her occupied, distracting her as much as possible from the motion, playing games with her, reading to her or simply holding her in conversation. The tactic worked and she was asleep before dinner time, when most of the visitors left, happy that the young girl was quietly resting, probably for the night. John and the two Duchesses firmly, but kindly insisted on staying with me for dinner, firmly saying that I should not dine alone when there was no reason that I should have to. We ate at the table in the dining room, within earshot of Sybbie should she need me, I appreciated the company that evening, but was glad, in a way, when they left and I could go to sit with Sybbie. I spent the night in the arm chair in her room, just in case the weather got worse and she awoke scared. I needn't have worried, I was awoken by a giggling Sybbie tweaking my nose the next morning.

“What are you doing here Daddy?” She asked seeing I had woken, then squealed with laughter as I grabbed her and pulled her up onto my knee.

“Keeping an eye on you while the weather was bad darling.” I answered.

“Oh daddy you are silly, you didn't need to. I was alright you know, Uncle Harold and Mummy were here.” She pointed at the pictures. “And so was everyone else see.”

“I should have realised.” I said glad her upset of the night before had calmed, as had the sea.

“Yes you should have daddy.” She scolded. “I had Peggy as well you know.”

Peggy was her favourite doll, it had been a gift to her from Aunt Mary for her first birthday, they had been inseparable ever since and she always cuddled her in bed. I got Sybbie dressed, then went to my own room to change, by the time I had breakfast had arrived.

Although it had continued to rain throughout that night and through breakfast, the sea was considerably calmer when Sybbie had woken me that morning, our fourth day on board. We ate in the cabin, then stayed in the lounge until we were told it had stopped raining. We hadn't been alone for long, John arrived to see how we were. He was travelling alone, so I guessed he was lonely and I did enjoy the company of someone near my own age who I was acquainted with. Sybbie was playing in her room when he arrived, I was reading the ships newspaper which was distributed to all passengers each day, carrying news that had been received in the radio room, it was printed on board. The paper reported that we were on time in the crossing, meaning we would be arriving in Southampton the following evening. Soon after John, the two Duchesses arrived and stayed for the morning. We emerged from the cabin in time for lunch, having received a number of visitors all wanting to check on Sybbie, it was touching to see all these high born and titled people so concerned about my daughter, she had certainly made an impression on them all. It was in the middle of the afternoon when a crew man found us.

“Mr. Branson?” He asked.

“Yes!” I replied. “Can I help you.”

“I have a message for you sir. I have been asked to convey the Captains compliments and enquire if you and Miss Sybbie would care to view the bridge this afternoon.”

“Well I certainly would, what about you Sybbie, you want to see the ships wheel?”

She nodded eagerly and we followed the crewman up to the Bridge.

The Captain greeted us warmly and showed us both, but especially Sybbie what everything did, allowing her to turn the ships wheel, she followed the needle of the compass as it slowly moved one degree in response to her steering, she was so excited she didn't notice the helmsman correct the course as soon as she had left the wheel. She noticed the charts and the captain took time to show her on them how far we had come and how far we had left to go. She followed a line he drew of the course we were to take with her finger, tracing the course carefully over the blue of the sea. When she reached a point near Ireland, she looked up at me. “That's where you are from Daddy, look, I wonder if we shall see it from the deck.”

“Yes darling it is where I was raised, it was a long time ago that I was last there though.”

“I'm sorry Miss. Sybbie, but it will still be dark when we pass Ireland, early in the morning.” The Captain said. “So sadly, you won't be able to see it this time.”

She nodded, satisfied with his answer. “That's a shame, it would have been nice to see it.” She said absently as little girls do, then her finger continued to follow the line, until she reached the end of the course indicated on the chart. “So where is Donk's house?”

I pointed to the approximate area in Yorkshire, on the map where Downton was, it was too small for me to be precise. “Around about there Darling, once we land at Southampton, we shall need to get a train to London, then get across the City to catch another to York and another from there to the village.”

Her eyes widened as she realised that even when we landed, we would still have a long journey up England.

We left the bridge to prepare for our last evening aboard, we were to dine at the captains table, then there was a dance which Sybbie wanted to attend if she wasn't too tired, even if it wasn't for long.

We had a lovely time that evening, the captain had invited all who he called Sybbie's group to his table that evening, it was all those who we had usually dined with, as well as a few others. After dinner, we attended the start of the dance in the ball room, led by the ships orchestra. Sybbie danced with me twice, before she began to look tired, so, excusing ourselves from our friends, I took her to her bed for our last night aboard.

It was with great excitement that Sybbie saw the coast of England early the next afternoon, as the ship turned round lands end and into the English Channel. The stewards had come round ensuring we had altered our watches to the correct time in England, rather than ships time, which had changed each day as we crossed the ocean, it was a sure sign that we were almost home. 

John had spoken to me earlier as we passed the Isles of Scilly. It seemed he had cabled his parents in London to let them know when to expect him and had told them we were on board returning to Yorkshire. The message had resulted in them issuing an invitation for Sybbie and I to spend the night in their home in the City, to break our journey before we went up to Yorkshire the next day if we would like. He pointed out that it would be quite late by the time we reached London anyway and even if we could get a train, it would be the early hours when we got back to Downton, too early for any of the staff to be awake, never mind the family. It would also be far too late for our surprise to work as well of course, so we might as well accept, then travel north after a good nights rest. Sybbie was sad to be another night before we saw everyone, especially as she realised she would be saying goodbye to all our on board friends too, but she was excited to finally be back in England.

Afternoon tea was served to all on board in lieu of Dinner, then we watched the ship dock in Southampton, we were all packed and ready to go, but we returned to the suite to say goodbye to Emily, thank her and I left her a good tip for all her help. The luggage would be taken ashore by the stewards for us to collect, so we went to the lounge where we waited with our friends to disembark. The Duchesses were tearful as they said goodbye to us, I assured them I would write to them and they promised to invite us to see them. Then, all to soon, we were disembarking with John.

Our luggage, together with Johns', had already been loaded onto a large car, which took us to the railway station, where we caught a train to London. We dined on the train, Sybbie quite amused to be eating watching the changing countryside through the window, it passed the time of the journey between Southampton and Waterloo, especially when the sun began to set. While it was not as good a meal as could be produced by Mrs. Patmore and Daisy in the kitchens at Downton, it was certainly of the quality that could be expected in good hotels. 

Night had completely fallen by the time we arrived in London, where his parents driver met us at the well lit Waterloo Station with their car. Sybbie had slept a little already on the train, after her meal, but woke enough to be able to walk to the car, holding my hand, while porters pushed the luggage on trolleys, I settled her into the back of the car while the driver and porters loaded the luggage into the boot. We set off through the still busy streets of the capital, John and I sat either side of her, as she quickly fell asleep once again, leaning against me. I had to carry her into the house when we arrived, John's parents cheerfully waving off my apologies that she was asleep, his mother quickly guiding me to the room they had prepared for her and asking a maid to watch her so that I could return downstairs for a drink with my hosts.

The house was about the same size and age as Grantham House, which was not too far away from us and quite similar in style, although the layout was quite different. It was a pleasant evening at the Bullock's, after the train journey from Southampton, they made me feel most welcome in their comfortable home. Having dined on the train, we spent the time talking about the voyage and politely exchanging news of people we each knew, John's parents of course knew my story, but still took the trouble to get to know me. They had very little news from outside London, but it was good to catch up with what had been going on since we had left America.

Later, I looked in on Sybbie, whose room was next to mine, on my way to bed. I was pleased to see she was still sleeping soundly. The maid and I spoke quietly so as not to wake her, I assured her that I could tend Sybbie if she woke. The maid smiled gratefully and went off to her bed. I left the connecting door between Sybbie's room and mine open, so I could hear her if she woke in the night wondering where she was. Having fallen asleep before we had arrived, she might be frightened waking in a strange place so I wanted to be close for her.

Just like that wet night on the ship, I needn't have worried about her, for this morning, before we started the journey north to this gate where we stood, annoying the Taxi driver, I had been woken by the sound of my daughter's laughter. A knock at my door sounded before the maid from last night entered and brought in a cup of tea, which she placed on the bedside table for me. She had already been to check on Sybbie, finding her awake and playing with a few of the dolls that were in the room, she had wished her a good morning and asked if she thought I would mind being woken. Sybbie had giggled her response, shaking her head.

I drank my tea, the maid insisted that she would see to Sybbie, so I could get ready without having to worry. Although this house was less formal than Downton in its customs, it was nice to be able to drink my tea, before getting dressed. Once we were both dressed ready, we went down to breakfast, where we were greeted by John and his parents. His mother, who had come down for breakfast instead of taking it in her room as usual in order that she could have some time with us before we left, especially my daughter, who worked her usual magic and soon John's parents both took to Sybbie and chatted away to her while we ate. 

John's father had kindly arranged for his driver to take us to Kings Cross in time for the mid morning fast train to York, his footmen loaded our luggage and one rode with the driver to arrange a porter to assist us at the station. Part of the Dowager's arrangements had been first class train travel for us, the tickets had been booked for us by the agent back in New York and had been waiting for us to collect once the porter had loaded our luggage onto his trolley.

We left the house soon after breakfast, I thanked John and his parents for their hospitality and kindness as we said goodbye to them on the steps outside their front door. They wished us well and hoped we would see them again, we climbed in the car, Sybbie waving to them through the window as we set off, the Bullocks waved back, until the car turned a corner and they were out of sight.

“Why have we had to say so many goodbyes daddy?” She asked. “Far more than when we went, they make me feel sad and coming home is supposed to be happy.”

“I know darling, but we shall be home later today.” I smiled to her.

“Today? Promise?” She perked up immediately.

“Yes dear we shall certainly be back at home tonight, this car ride, two train rides and a short taxi ride at the other end, that is all we have left to travel darling.”

“Can we eat on the train again Daddy?”

“I expect so darling, though I'm not sure.” I teased her, knowing that we would be having lunch before we reached York.

Arriving at Kings Cross, the Footman leapt from the car and into the station to fetch a porter with a trolley, once they arrived and began unloading the boot, the chauffeur got out and opened the door for us to get out. I thanked both him and the footman once our luggage was loaded onto the trolley and under the porter's care, then we walked into the station, the wheels of the trolley ringing over the paving as we went to collect our tickets from the office.

The train left London shortly before ten, we had seats in a first class compartment of the corridor carriage, it was one of the latest teak coaches pulled by what looked like a brand new locomotive, the whole train seemed to gleam as we had walked up the platform to board. This was the London North Eastern Railway, formed just two years ago from a number of smaller companies, it was modernising its fleet of carriages and locomotives. Journey times were steadily being reduced along the unified route, without the need to change locomotives quite so often as had once been the case. The train was to run non stop to York and we had the compartment to ourselves, which enabled us to enjoy the views through the window freely. Sybbie occasionally enthusiastically exclaiming loudly at what she saw, a freedom she would not necessarily have had if we had, had company in the compartment. At Noon, we walked along the corridor to the Dining Car, where much to my daughters delight we had lunch, then returned to our compartment for the remainder of this leg of our Journey. It was a wonderfully warm May Saturday across the country, it seemed as we travelled North. Four hours, after leaving London we stepped onto the platform beneath the cavernous, smoke filled, roof of a busy York station.

A Porter collected our luggage from the van immediately behind the locomotive and onto a trolley to be taken to the train for Downton, Sybbie watched the fireman uncouple the Engine, which would be changed before the train headed further North. She was fascinated to watch the railway men at work, then waved as the Locomotive left the station to go to the nearby engine sheds, it's replacement was waiting on the centre line further along the station, one of several locomotives contributing to the cloud of smoke in the curved rook of the central arch which shaded us from the sun outside. 

We were lucky that the train from London had arrived on a platform quite close to the one we needed to continue our journey, so we did not need to use either the lift nor the footbridge to transfer to the local train. We simply had to walk along the platform, beneath the spectacular central curved arch roof then cut across the ends of the central bay platforms. I bought a copy of the Yorkshire Post as we passed the newsagents beneath the steps to the footbridge, in the hope I might get to read it on our next train. Then we walked along one of the platforms to wait the ten minutes before our train arrived, not easy with a young child whose impatience was growing as quickly as her excitement, the chances of me reading my paper were looking slim. The train to Scarborough crossed the tracks at the end of our platform, then the train we had arrived on departed North behind its fresh, gleaming, green locomotive. Both departures distracted Sybbie for the time they took for the last carriage to disappear from view, before another heading south entered on the far platform. 

Despite the distractions of the train movements in the busy station, I was quite grateful when the train we were to catch pulled into the bay platform and unloaded its passengers. The porter wheeled our luggage to the van, at what would be the back of the train when it left, while we boarded the compartment we would travel in on the penultimate leg of our long journey. The small, old, locomotive was uncoupled and Sybbie excitedly watched it pass the window as it ran along on the parallel track. It took on water while the passengers boarded and the luggage was stowed away, before it backed gently down to be coupled at the opposite end of the train, ready for its run back up the line the way it had come.

We were again alone in our compartment for this part of the journey, which took a little under an hour through the Vale of York and beyond, the difference being that there was no corridor this time, we were in an old style compartment, closed off from the rest of the train, except for what we could see through the window. The journey started on the slow line parallel to the main line North, we were passed by one fast train before our train entered the branch line that would take us home. Every station stop that the train made, Sybbie stood at the window, bouncing with excitement, impatiently imploring those getting on, or off, to hurry up so we could set off again. As each rotation of the trains wheels brought us closer to our family, even I was getting emotional. I too was looking forward to seeing the family and the servants, my friends, once more. Until now, with the moment of reunion less than an hour away, I had not allowed my own anticipation to be felt. Now, in the privacy of that small compartment, I finally allowed my excitement to join that of my daughters. 

The train rumbled out of the last station before Downton, chugging steadily along the line, the wires strung between the wooden poles seeming to rise and fall rhythmically as we passed them, each pole a marker closer to our home. Sybbie noticed my growing anticipation and stood in front of me, waiting for the train to stop, knowing we were almost at Journey's end. I remembered how long it seemed to me as a child waiting for an event to start, so knew it must have seemed an age to my daughter since we left York, never mind New York, before we arrived at our station. She was so excited to finally be here that she ran to the door the moment the train stopped, I made sure I was in front of her as the station master opened it for us, otherwise she would have fallen out in her eagerness to be home. To have come so far without incident or injury, it would have been more than ironic if she had hurt herself, getting off the train within a mile of the house. Once I was on the platform, I turned and lifted her from the carriage, then in an effort to calm her, a little, as well as keep her safe, I carried her along the familiar station, only putting her down so she could visit the ladies room.

Once she returned I held her hand while the porter brought our luggage, which had been unloaded from the van, our tickets were checked by one of his colleagues as we left station through the booking office and into to the familiar yard. We heard the guards whistle and the train set off on it's journey, as I looked round this place with which I was so well acquainted, where a car would have been waiting, if I had let the family know we were coming. 

I suppose it was my mischievous side that had led me to continue to maintain the desire to surprise them, even just a few minutes from the gates at the bottom of the drive, I grinned at what I anticipated would be the looks on their faces. Even so, there was also a small nagging fear that they may not let us return, although logically I knew that was ridiculous in reality, it was still a concern. That small doubt remained in my mind, I was only an in law after all and I didn't want to take the risk, however small, of being rejected before we got there. Suddenly a whole host of doubts, which I had put to the back of my mind, came to the fore for a moment, all were what if's. I remembered Mrs. Hughes ridiculing what if's once, there was only one way to find out and that was to go and see.

I looked round the Station yard for some sort of transport to the house, a wagon would do. If no vehicles had been there, then we would have to walk up to the house and send the car or waggonette down to collect our luggage, that would not have been a problem in the least, but I counted my blessings when I saw that there was a taxi there, just one. I went over, the porter following me.

“Where to?” The driver asked hopefully.

I told him our destination, he looked both puzzled and disappointed, but nodded. “Ruddy Paddy's hardly worth starting the engine.” He moaned under his breath.

I pretended not to have heard him as we got in the car, but already taking a dislike to this sulky man's attitude. The porter loaded our luggage, I tipped him as I often had when I had returned from travels which I had been on as agent. The cab driver looked happier when he saw me pass the porter a coin, but still seemed disgruntled about something. He drove out of the yard and into the village, Sybbie stood at the window, looking out at the familiar buildings excitedly as we passed along the main street of the village. I caught a glimpse of a group of people waiting outside the church when I looked across at Crawley House as we passed it by, but did not get a good enough view to see what was going on there. If it was significant I was sure I would find out, eventually, so dismissed it for the time being, concentrating on where we were going, again anticipating the response we might receive. We got our first glimpse of the Abbey as we approached the gates, I asked the driver to stop at them and we got out to drink in the view.

That had been just a couple of minutes ago, we were now standing by the gates, looking up at the house, so close to the end of our journey. Once we got back in the taxi we would be at the front door in less than a minute, but both Sybbie and I, it seemed, simply absorbed the view of the place we had missed so much. It felt like I was gazing upon an old friend for the first time in years, although the truth was we had been away for only a few months. The relief that we had finally got here and that it was here, in one piece, almost as if it were waiting for us, was almost overwhelming. Our time away seemed irrelevant though, as I stared at the house, the smile on my face wide, I could understand Sybbie's excitement as I took in every detail of the house and grounds that we could see, happy to have returned.

“Am I leaving you here or taking you up the drive?” The driver asked brusquely. “I have to get back to Ripon some time today, I was hoping to get a fare in that direction from the station rather than this short hop you know.”

My reverie broken, we got back into the car. “Take us up the drive please, up to the front door.” I answered shortly.

He grunted and we set off again through the gates. “Where do you want to go after this, are you staying nearby? Like I say I don't want to be too long messing on round here in case I get a fare going towards Ripon on the next train, whenever that might be.”

I rolled my eyes as I looked out on the familiar grounds, down to the lake, mildly surprised that no one was about in the grounds on such a wonderful day. “Oh yes we shall be staying very close by.” I replied and winked at Sybbie who was giggling madly.

We stopped at the front door and I opened the car door. “I think I'll just go see if anyone is in.” I said getting out of the car, quickly.

“Hey hold on, what the hell do you think you are doing, you can't do that.” The driver shouted, leaping out of the car. “Don't you know who lives here you fool.”

Putting on my strongest Irish accent I looked at him, my hand on the bell handle. “I'm sure they won't mind at all, after all they must be friendly folk, it would take a lot of friends to fill a place like this. I'm sure they won't mind saying hello at all, we might even get a drink.” I pulled the bell, nearly bursting out in laughter at the look of horror on the man's face.

The driver looked mortified. “You bloody Irish idiot, we're for it now. I knew the moment I picked you up you would be trouble, ruddy Irishmen always are.”

I stood in front of the door, waiting, while the taxi driver sweated.

The door opened and a Hall boy stood there, that was unusual, it was rare that Carson, Bates and the footmen would all be out at the same time. “Can I help you.” He said automatically, then looked at me, his face broke into a surprised expression. “Mr. Branson, no one said you were coming today.”

The taxi driver looked from the Hall boy to me and back in disbelief as Sybbie leapt from the car to run to my side.

I smiled. “No, well I wanted it to be a surprise, so the family didn't know I was.” I turned to the Taxi driver. “Would you fetch our luggage please, place it beside the door, we are home so will be staying here.”

The man looked at me, utterly confused. “You are Lord Grantham?”

“No, but I am his son in law and this is his Grand daughter.” I said paying him what was on the meter.

He accepted the payment and unloaded our luggage, putting it on the gravel next to the front door, then stood expectantly, his hand held ready. I placed a shilling in his hand and held it there. “Make that the last time you judge a book by its cover, I might be a Ruddy Paddy, but my money is as good as anyone else's, or you would not have accepted it. Now I shall give you one more tip, don't wait at the station for anyone heading towards Ripon.”

“Oh and why not?” He huffed, trying hard not to show his anger at being embarrassed.

“You moved to Ripon from somewhere else quite recently, didn't you.” I observed.

“I did, from Lancaster, a few weeks ago, what of it?”

“Well in that case you may not be aware that the trains that call at the station in the village either head to or have come from Ripon and they stop at every village between. Goodbye!” I walked away from him and a moment later, heard his car start, then the crunch of gravel as he turned round and then drove off down the drive.

Turning back to the hall boy, I was about to suggest he got some help to move our luggage, but stopped. I thought I caught the faint sound of Bagpipes from somewhere, it was an odd sound for the village. I paused listening, but the sound faded in the breeze, puzzled we went inside.

“Is anyone in Peter?” I asked the Hall Boy, realising he would not have answered the door if any of the senior servants had been in.

“No sir, they are down at Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes wedding in the village.” He told me.

“That's today? That would explain the bagpipes I thought I just heard.”

“Yes sir, in honour of Mrs. Hughes they had a piper who was going to play for them as they came out of the church.” He replied.

I nodded, we had missed the service. “That's a nice touch for Mrs Hughes, are they coming back here for the wedding breakfast?” I asked, guessing that the offer would have been made by the family, an offer I could not see Carson refusing.

“No sir, Mrs. Hughes wanted it to be somewhere less formal when it was offered, so they are holding it in the school room, but I had to stay in case anyone called.”

“So you are on your own?” He nodded in response to me, so I continued. “Right, well in that case, let me help you get our luggage inside, Carson need never know that you didn't do it on your own if you don't tell him. Sybbie will you please sit on that chair while we bring our things in, then we shall go down to the village to find everyone.”

“Yes Daddy.” She replied happily climbed into the chair next to the large fireplace and watched as Peter and I brought in the luggage and took it up to my old room.

I took out what we would both need for the evening, but left most of the unpacking for later, we had some friends to congratulate.

Thirty minutes later Sybbie and I walked back down the drive towards the village, or more accurately I walked, she ran ahead, then back to me, trying to encourage me to hurry up. Smiling at her antics, I walked at my normal pace, enjoying the sunshine and the feeling of being back where I had realised we belonged. She stopped inside the gates and waited for me, remembering our rule that she must not go through without either myself or one of the family or staff with her. In fact, it was rare she would be playing anywhere near the gate, before we had gone to America, but I was glad she had remembered the rule, before I had needed to call out to her.

“Daddy?” She said pensively as I reached her, she looked suddenly worried.

I picked her up and began to carry her the short distance along the street through the village and towards the School rooms where so many events I had attended had taken place. “What my darling?”

“What if Donk and everyone don't want us back?”

“I'm sure they will.” I reassured her, realising she was again having similar worries that I had, no matter how unlikely they were to be true.

“But what if George has forgotten all about me?”

I smiled. “From what she said in that last letter we got from Aunt Mary, I am positive he hasn't.”

“But Daddy what if he doesn't like me any more?”

“That is hardly likely is it, I am sure he will and so will Marigold.”

Her eyes widened. “What if he likes her more than me?”

“Sybbie darling, I am sure he will like you both the same, just as you will like them both the same, after all you are all cousins aren't you.”

She fell silent for the few minutes it took to reach the school gate, she was thinking deeply. I put my hand on the gate, we could see the door was open and there was the sound of happy voices coming from within. Sybbie spoke again, this time more considered. “Daddy, what if Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes don't want us at their wedding?”

I closed the gate and stopped in the playground, still holding her. That was something I had not thought of in the excitement of returning and wanting to surprise them all. Was I stealing their thunder, taking something away from their day? Would I be creating some sort of resentment that I had intruded on their day, a day I in no way begrudged them or would want to intrude on. That was something I would never want to do, I admired both of them greatly, I owed them both much, especially Mrs. Hughes. She had been a tower of strength as I grieved for Sybil, been there for me when I had been lost in sorrow and vulnerable, helped me find a way out when I felt trapped by my own stupidity in dealing with an over familiar ladies maid. Even Mr. Carson had been supportive of us after he had got over the shock of us marrying, he was not effusive, but he had also been supportive and helped me whilst I had been the Chauffeur. After Sybil's death he too had been a tower of strength to me and he doted on Sybbie, he was a man I had an enormous amount of respect for, in fact I should hate to offend or upset either of them in any way whatsoever. Would they want us here, today? Perhaps we should have waited in the library back at Downton for the family to return. I moved towards the door a little more slowly, until we could hear the sounds of what was going on inside. 

The noise of chatter from inside stopped, I could hear the familiar deep tones of Mr. Carson speaking, though I couldn't quite tell what he said. I hadn't replied to Sybbie, but I started walking towards the door, which was still open as if waiting for us, inviting us in. I stepped through the door in time to hear Carson describe himself as the luckiest of men, then we made our way through the small entrance lobby to the door into the hall itself.

It was a room I had been in so often before, the village flower and vegetable show was held here, the school nativity and various other village events, but I had rarely felt quite so nervous as I walked towards that door as I did now. Perhaps I should have sent word? Maybe we would not be welcome at this time, in this place, if at all? Still my legs carried us forward towards the hall of the building, from where the voice came from. Again the door was open, inviting us in. Mr. Carson had finished speaking, I could now hear Robert give a toast as we neared the hall. “The Bride and Groom.” He announced.

I stepped through the door, Sybbie still in my arms just as everyone else responded, none had seen me enter, not even Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes. “The Bride and Groom.” I said, and everyone turned to look my way.


End file.
